


Hey, Mr. Mailman!

by nikkivfx



Category: School of Rock (2003), School of Rock - Lloyd Webber/Slater/Fellowes
Genre: First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:15:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23900683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkivfx/pseuds/nikkivfx
Relationships: Dewey Finn & Reader, Dewey Finn/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	Hey, Mr. Mailman!

It was a normal lazy day in the house. It was sunny and beautiful out, also known as spring weather: the perfect time to have the windows open for a crisp breeze to fill the house. You pulled back the curtains and shades, and the living room filled with warming sunlight. Then, you got on your knees and cranked the window open wide and let the cool breeze cover your face. This was the beauty of having a job you could work from home; you get to enjoy all the pleasures and comfort of being in your own space.

Still kneeling by the window, you spotted the mailman with his satchel. He was always making his rounds at the same time, 12:30. There was a faint noise of music, you assumed coming from his phone. If you listened close enough you heard… AC/DC? Nice pick, Mr. Postman.

You stayed by the window until you saw him reach your mailbox. Maybe you should thank him. It’s his job, but everyone deserves a little gratitude occasionally. Mustering up some courage, you shouted to him,

“Hey! Thank you so much!”

He brought his head up from the letters in his hands, looking around.

“Up here!”

His head followed your voice, and he looked up until he found your kind face in the window. He had brown hair that touched his ears and some tasteful scruff on his face. Husky, and it suited him perfectly. Overall, an attractive man.

You smiled and waved. Despite the hat on his head, the sun was in his eyes, and one was clamped shut. But he smiled back at you, nonetheless.

He waved for a moment and answered, “Not a problem! Hope you’re having a good day,”

“You too! Enjoy the weather,” He nodded with a crooked grin on his face and went about his business. The pleasant conversation made you glad you said anything at all.

The next day was just as beautiful, a little less cloudy and just as warm. You were having a snack and scrolling through your phone when the doorbell rang. You took note of the time. 12:27.

You walked to the front door with a pep in your step. You opened it, and were met with benevolent brown eyes, pleased to see you.

“Hey! Good afternoon, I have a package foooor..” He looked at the label and read your name back to you.

“That’s me! Do I have to sign?”

“Yes, actually. Here,” He handed you his little scanner and you signed your name sloppily. Then you exchanged the scanner for your package. Holding it to your chest, you thanked him and stood awkwardly in the doorway.

He turned to leave, and threw a cheerful, “Have a good day!” over his shoulder.

“Wait!” you shouted, more abruptly than you intended. He halted and turned back to you, looking at you expectantly.

“Do you want company?” you paused, mentally slapping yourself, “You know, while you go around?”

Even though he was surprised, he smirked and nodded, “That would be nice. Come on,” he gestured for you to follow him. You put up a “one second” hand and threw on some shoes and grabbed your keys, locking the door behind you.

When you got outside, you turned your head towards the sun, and let it warm your face.

“So,” he started.

“So.”

“Why did you want to walk with me?” He asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“I should get gets some steps in for today. And I heard you blasting AC/DC yesterday, I guess that piqued my interest. No one ever really has much interest in the mailman,” He gasped lightly and put a hand to his chest in sarcastic offense. You giggled, and continued, “Why don’t you wear headphones?”

“I like to hear what’s going on around me, y’know, in case any murderers try to lurk up behind me.”

“Murderers? Should I assume that you’ve been a victim of attempted murder?”

“If it’ll make me seem cooler, then yeah, totally.” He looked sideways at you with a dorky grin on his face.

This became a routine; each one like a tiny date. He would ring your bell when he reached your house, and you would throw your shoes on and walk with him as he made his trip around your neighborhood.

You had learned his name was Dewey. He played the guitar and coached kids in music. In an unpopular belief debate you two had, he had argued that tea was better than coffee. His favorite season was the fall. He dressed up as Walter White (bald cap, glasses, and all) for Halloween once. And in your opinion, he was as cute as anything.

One day, a Friday, felt a little different. Not in a bad way, but it was overall a more comfortable atmosphere between you two. He was quieter and kept sneaking glances at you. He thought it was undetectable, but he was a bad actor. You noticed. Finally, he said,

“Would you want to go out for a drink tonight?” Immediately, you felt on a heat on your face that you hoped he would not notice. But inside, you were pleased, bursting with delight.

You mirrored the words he said when you first extended an olive branch to him.

“That would be nice.”


End file.
